We’ve         acquired         lights,         a         subtle         effect
on        the        broken        surface        of        the        sea—
light        like        diamond,        or        like        a        candle’s
awkward     balance.      This     water     carries     soft     wind.
Each           break           seeks         light,           a           sound
like      the      spheres,     the      movement      of      moonlight
and         sunlight,             everything         to         its         own
broken       position.       A       gigantic       star       intercedes,
I     find     it     on     a     map     guided     and     pointed     to
by   a     center     that     explodes.     Here     fate     functions
in     advance     of      debt,     and     velocity     is     just     so:
a       model       of       center’s       spin.       A       true       use
of      magic,     a      visible      sign      of      the      brokenness
inviting    us:    I    can    only    manage    one    perfect    part.